Two Divided By Zero
by TheResurrectionist
Summary: There's a fortune teller in a park somewhere. There's a man with two souls walking around. Outsider POV on Gabriel and his future. Written very late and praying for reviews over the holidays. "It wasn't every day you saw a man with two souls, but it wasn't every day you were a psychic." Please review! :) pre-Gabriel and me ruins of God and Dean Winchester. Sam reference too!
1. Chapter 1

Two Divided By Zero  
It wasn't often you saw two people in one person as they walked by. But not everyone was a psychic with the power of Sight.  
I usually thought it was more of a curse, the double images under everything and everyone, sometimes driving me to the point of madness. But as I grew, my sight did too, and I learned to ignore most of the images.  
My grandmother had used her Sight often, running a fortune telling business from home while I went to school. With no parents in the equation, it was only the two of us, and I learned to hone my gift regardless of lack of ebullience. Grandma stared at me one day when I was sixteen and had asked her to stop my Sight. To lock it out of my life. Because there were only so many times your best friend could lie to you while you could see the falsity of it curling right under her skin, coiling and grey, like a lie is. Or the cloud of black that followed the quiet new girl around for a month until she disappeared one day, funeral a week later. And I was tired of it.  
I didn't WANT to know.  
And my grandma had sighed, hands in front of her as she looked me in the eyes, two orbs of timeless grey in an old face.  
She's shaken her head and spoke quietly. "It's not something you can shut off. It's as much as you are as your hand or foot. Would you cut those off?"  
And I knew it. Knew deep down that it was a part of me, and there was nothing I could do about it.  
So I had sighed, and dragged my feet all the way until my grandmas death ten years later. When I had taken over her shop.  
I was a bit young to be a psychic, according to my clients and passerby. Too tired to be pretty, when I was kept awake by visions at night, and too young to be trusted.  
So I'd closed the store, taken the business to the front of the busy park. A small stand here, and a few mysterious beads and scarves there, and I made a convincing fortune teller.  
The people who passed by were usually unassuming, and I organized them into three categories.  
Those who didn't believe, whose faces scrunched up ever so slightly as they passed by, disapproving stares holding longer than was polite. And I stared back, eyes unwavering until they looked away and hurried on, all of this happening within the space of a few seconds.  
The second group were the busy people, the ones with normal jobs who looked curious but hurried on. The ones that had troubles and secrets but were too busy to stop. But I could see it glinting in their eyes, and once in a blue moon, one of them sat down.  
That led me to the third group, the ones who did sit down. They didn't need to say much, but they weren't the type to try. Usually, I was met with silence as I cut the cards, and they looked at their lives like they already knew what had and would happen. The irony of that wasn't lost on me, but it was business, and it paid decent.  
The days passed slow, but before I knew it, months had passed. My best business was in the summer, after all.  
But as the days were closing, and summer welcomed autumn, I saw the man with two souls walking by, and something in me gripped him tight and drew him into the chair in front of me.  
His face was surprised, but it faded as his eyes fell on me.  
"Prophet." He said, eyeing me slowly. His eyes were gold, warm and full of mischief but at the same time cold and unyielding. "What can I do for you?" He said slowly, drawing out the 'you'.  
"Fold." I said simply, giving him the deck as I stared longer. His face was handsome, features streamlined and golden like a painting. His current expression was a smirk, face nothing but happy, but the double image underneath was colder, eyes grim as he stared out through the other's eyes.  
"What's your name?" I asked as he folded perfectly.  
"They call me Loki." He said, smiling, while the other image whispered "Gabriel", so soft it could barely be heard.  
He finished, pulling and flipping three cards.  
They lay out in front of us, shiny and suddenly too pastel to be real, fake in the presence of someone far older, I sensed.  
I shoved the cards to the side, and stared at him. The early autumn light made a halo in his gold hair, eyes deep and shallow at the same time.  
"I don't know what you are," I started, looking into his eyes. "But you're not...whole." I said, gauging his reaction. "And I think you know that."  
He swallowed a few times, mischief fading as the other image came to the surface.  
"You're older than you look." He said, voice and tone somehow deeper. "You're not like the other psychics."  
"Then you know you can't keep like this forever. That you'll crack." I wasn't sure how to put it. Waving my hands vaguely, I felt embarrassed by the fake beads on my scarves. Whoever this man was, split or not, he was old. And much more powerful than me. I could feel the power rolling off of him, shielded somehow, but still more power in one body than I'd ever seen.  
I looked at him again as he seemed to sigh, images fuzzy as they conflicted with each other. The tall, warrior like form with the eyes of self righteousness incarnate and the shadow of wings around his head. And just as apparent, the shadowy light filled trickster with a perpetual smirk and the power of eons under his skin, at his deft fingertips. The two images wavered, flashed within each other and swirled back again. He rubbed his temples as the two images jumped, opening his eyes slowly as he looked me in the eyes almost petulantly.  
"What can I do, huh?" He asked annoyed. "It's not who I am. Not right now." He said, waving his hand towards the older, more serious form.  
"No, but it is who you are. Who you used to be, and who you always will be." I paused, a weird inspiration taking hold of me. "And you can't run from that, Gabriel." I said, using the voice the other one had whispered, lips moving soundlessly but words still floating by my head, swirling around like mist.  
He flinched when he heard the name, knowing it was there, but hearing it always made things more true. More tangible. And we both knew it.  
"I...I thought I could solve this by running. By covering myself up with tricks...and it didn't work. " he said sadly, eyes older than time and still so young. And then, right then, I knew which Gabriel I was talking to.  
Reaching my hand inside my jacket, I pulled out the pendant my grandmother always clutched to her during her visions, had said was special so many years ago.  
It was a small gold pendant on a black string. It curled slightly as I left It in his palm. I could feel the energy pooling as he felt it, knowing my instinct was right.  
"There's a boy somewhere," I started. "A special boy. And one day, that will be his." I said, pointing. "And when you find him, you will have to decide." And as the prophecy, if that was what it was, flowed from my lips, I knew undoubtedly that what I said was true. And all I could do was hope for him, the man with two souls.  
He'd smiled then, trickster smirk back in place while the other one, Gabriel, my mind whispered, sighed and turned blank eyes towards heaven. I know he would be free one day, when the world would end and when all of us needed a hero. He would break free. But for now, it was a split, a hidden destiny to rival any others, save one, and I didn't pity him.  
"Thank you." He'd said gravely. "I just..."  
"What?" I asked.  
"It's nothing, it's just you remind me of someone ."  
"Do I?" I queried back.  
He shook his head roughly, standing and walking away, and I turned my head back, seeking the crowds again.  
He didn't turn back, and since he didn't, he didn't see the flash of light as the day ended, or the mysterious way my table seemed to cold and disappear. Or how no one seemed to remember who was I was, vague memories stirring and drifting away.  
He didn't know that his father was always watching, even when he ran away. That heaven still loved the most beloved Archangel. And one day he would remember.  
The end :)


	2. Chapter 2

A/N Small interlude-I'm thinking of turning this into a full fledged story. Anyone got any ideas? PM me:)

God watched Gabriel walk away with a small smile on his face.  
His son thought he had left heaven behind, and in many ways he had-you could barely sense his grace, trapped beneath waves of lust and humor. God thought it was ironic that no matter how far away Gabriel ran from himself, heaven always followed.

The Angel of Judgement becoming something that gave people what they deserved? Didn't Gabriel (Loki, he remembered) see the irony in this?  
Gabriel walked away from the park without a single bit of doubt in the fortune tellers words, almost as if he knew his jig was almost up.

God smiled, and settled down to wait.  
Gabriel never failed to put on a show.  
TBC


End file.
